Welcome to My Brain, Please Take a Seat...or a Number...or an Egg-Free Noodle.

Have you ever had the inkling to create but you didn't have a damn clue what you would be capable of creating in the first place?  Story of my life.  I know for a fact that I was a creative-creator with a vast array of capabilities and talents in one of my previous lives.  I can FEEL this in muh bones.  The only problem is, the current me, the real me, the me in this present dimension doesn't have a damn clue what she is capable of creating.  I am an amalgam of randomness with a side of  passion and adventure.  I want to explore painting, and singing, and writing, and drawing but I'm not so sure I rock at anything except for maybe writing.  And even that's more of a slow roll than an actual fist-in-the-air jolty and confident "rock." 

I don't think I will ever grow into my own skin.  I have realized as I get older I am more confident in the understanding of my own self and my own limitations in this world.  But I do not believe that I will ever fully blossom out of my limitations.  I feel that I am many different 'me's" in a sea of standard and self aware personalities.  How can you limit your mind down to one creation and visualize that from the beginning and see it through to the end with no interruption or sudden, "SQUIRREL" moments?  I long for that.  Start me on a task to sew a hat and we'll finish by booking a hiking trip in Europe.  Random, randomness. 

This is the main reason why, when I am told, "Hey, has anyone ever told you, 'you should write a book?'"  I feel my innards roll up inside of an imaginary snail shell and shut the entrance door.  Seeing a process from conception, visualizing the entire process, and successfully ending it in the way that it was meant to end from the beginning is as foreign to me as a Siamese cat-meat cheese ball being served at a kid's Birthday Party.  What?? 

There is no thinking through in this brainacle of mine.  There is only impulse and reaction, and hilarity, and seizing of le moments.  At times I wonder if my friends and husband have ever conspired to tranquilize me.  I am notorious for getting in over my head and jumping in before realizing there are THINGS TO PLAN BEFORE JUMPING.  And then I freak.  And I properly blame everyone else for this horrible experience and bad planning.  Ah, it is me, I say.  I am my own worst....limmitator?  It's like being a laminator, but instead of laminating things, you are...wait for it...LIMMITING THINGS.  New word, BOOM.

Plus I like to yell when I get excited, I don't think that would read well in books.

Maybe that is why I love my current job so much.  There are no set expectations for the day.  I have an overall goal, but my Thursday could very realistically start super mundane and end in a resident forgetting to put their clothes on before venturing out for a walk, or getting a call that someone ran themselves over while checking their mail, or having someone in my office cussing about their hatred for rabbits in the community that eat their expensive flowers.  Really, this person said they saw one staring at them in the street last week and while holding their cane, they told their daughter to kill "that fucker" with a golf club. 

Run little dude, run.

Certain things are routine and expected with my job, but the meaningful life stuff in between, the meat of my stories I'll tell on my death bed, those are all serendipitously random, unexpected, and all the more hilarious.   

And that's why I don't think I'll ever be capable of writing a book.  Because, how in the actual fuck would I limit my mind down in order to write about 1 SINGLE STORY??  *faints*

Thank you though, it means a lot that you think this about me.